Vintage lunchbox, year unknown

Tiddly winks, I LOVED to play Tiddly Winks but my Mom got sick of picking all those little pieces up that we managed to fling under the couch or behind the stairs or down the furnace register. She finally hid them in her wardrobe in her unmentionables and announced she hid them and we'd have to ask for them and she'd have to bring them to us to be used with supervision. Since Mom hid seemingly everything known to man in that wardrobe we weren't too worried. During an afternoon "nap" I was supposed to be having I was in Mom's room and my sister in our room. My sister snuck in and we got out those Tiddly Winks and a canister of pick-up sticks and had quite a nice afternoon while Mom weeded in the garden. We heard the screen door shut quietly so we quickly picked up, put them back in the wardrobe and my sister hid in Dad's closet and I fiegned sleep when Mom came up to check on us.

The next morning my Mom busted us with the news that while Dad was in bed the night before he found something cold and odd and they turned on the light to find a big Tiddly Wink disc. She said "next time will be a trip to the woodshed (meaning spanking). I never got spanked for it and quietly played it many many times after that.....devil aren't I?

Oh how could we ever forget Boob Tubes! One year for Christmas, I'd say I was 7 years old, my sister was then 10 and she found a bag in our big brother's room (he was 17) which had wrapped Christmas gifts in it. Giggling and full of mischief my sister told me about it and we snuck into his room, caaarefully untaped an edge of this present labeled for me, what did we see? "Boob Tube" We instantly stuck it back up and ran out of the room horrified, we thought our brother bought me something to make me have boobs!!!! I dreaded Christmas day when I'd have to face him and I also feared that that's how girls got boobs was by some device...did it hurt? Oh today we ROAR with laughter over this one but we learned a very very valuable lesson... heheheee don't peak unless you're ready for a shock!

I was wondering if they had my first lunchbox I ever had on ebay, I searched, couldn't remember what it was called then I found it. It said "timeless priceless collectable, vintage, year unknown". Well that added to its mystique and probably it's value. Above you'll see my first lunchbox, a Junior Miss tin which came complete with a thermos dated 1969. Guess I'm priceless, vintage and invaluable :)

Don't you just love the good old days?

Deep thoughts for Friday

art (c) Jessie Wilcox Smith

I began today feeling very drained and exhausted, I have been struggling with allergies which turned into a sinus infection which turned then into the flu. I have a very demanding life, seeing to the demands of six children, seven if you count my dear husband and those from the outside world. Sometimes I feel so bombarded that I just want to flee...though not a drinking woman I contemplate a hotel room, a spa and lots of wine. I know that about 3 hours into that seemingly blissful exit from reality, I'd then get all sappy from the wine and pine away for my family and come back. So what's the fun in that?

A much less expensive way for me to have an escape is this, get hubby to watch kids, or atleast be warm body on the couch to make them THINK he's in charge, take two benadryl and some excedrin. You get way loopy for a lot less cash. Go into your bedroom, turn on music, lock the door, lay down with a bright light over you and pretend you're at the beach. heck even lay on a towel and toss a bit of sand around so that your rest is all gritty like the beach, crank up a heater..whatever it takes. A few hours later you've napped off the benadryl, had a little exit from "life" and feel like a new person.

Who says I can't be thrifty??

Just when you think it's safe to have a little nap...

It's Sunday, a day I hold dear, it's a day devoted to the Lord and service to Him. Part of serving him, as a woman, is to serve her loved ones. OK....so, I'm a bit ill today and after getting up three times in the night with a screaming lil Nathanael (see http://www.nathanaelsneighborhood.blogspot.com/ ) we decidedly did not make it to church. I hate not going but he has a fever well over 101 and he never fusses or cries. Since he's had roseola for over a week now he's due to feel better so we thought it better to tough it out at home. Well. OK this means more work for Mom! Daddy's sick with the same virus that gave dear Natty the roseola and it's causing him severe pain in his shoulder so yep..sick bay and Mom doesn't get to be sick!!

Now that's ok, I mean, I love my family dearly and I thank God every day that I have my family. I am not only blessed, I mean anyone can say that. I am also truly very lucky. I have such a caring loving husband and really good children and not everyone can say that. I can't say that if my Zoloft runs out, that or my Jolessa. But by and large I am so grateful for them that I am brought to tears of gratitude on a daily basis.

Except for today..I get the screaming Nathanael down for a nap, it's after 2pm and I'm finally getting to eat my lunch. I announce my intentions to have a nice nap when from the other room my dear sweet adoring husband hollers (thus disturbing said napping child) MamAAAAhhh I need my pain meds". I kindly and calmly remind him I gave them to him not 15 minutes ago along with the lemonade. He then remembered thinking the lemonade such a treat that he forgot he took those meds! Then I, myself, manage to drop a glass of water so I have to mop that up. Then the children wonder what's for snack (didn't I just get lunch??). So I opened up some brownies and they each get 3 little bite sized brownies. Though I'm jealous I continue on my quest for that elusive nap. Only to go into the bathroom and find that the toilet is desperately, yet once again, plugged. (Remember? I'd hold a medal for number of times I have to snake the toilet? Huh?? remember that?? yep...no lie!). Soooo I fix that then my daughter's baby doll is crying and I need to soothe it. awwww how sweet!

So I finally, nearly an hour later, make my way to my room only to see my computer beckoning me to come in and blog. Perhaps it's a nap I'm not needing so much as quiet time alone to my thoughts...which leads to thoughts of how grateful I am to have this family which is so chaotic and busy that I barely have time to eek out a nap on a Sunday afternoon.

Be grateful for all you have. No matter how much or how little. It's yours and it's a gift.

Perhaps I should've been a dog.

Today's news headline reads:

"Helmsley's Dog Gets $12 Million in Will"
By Associated Press

Now, dogs are supposed to be man's best friend but doggone it, either "The Queen of Mean" was really a man, or she didn't get the memo that diamonds are a girl's best friend!! No matter, whatever the case, I've been married twice and if there's one thing I've learned along the way, dogs definetly get the better end of the stick. Dogs don't have to pick up after the man, don't have to cook his dinner nor wash his clothes. And when master comes home at 3am drunk as a skunk, doggie dear doesn't have to sleep with him.

Dogs are man's companion, sometimes they have to work but the majority of the time those canine chums love their "master" unconditionally, no matter how they themselves are being treated. The man also lucks out in that Fido can't nag him to death nor would he cost his man a huge alimony check if the whole deal went sour.

hmmm now what was it I wanted to be again??

until next time.....

Of being aptly named....

Kitty, that's my nickname. My father wanted to name me after a favorite aunt, Mary-Katherine Fitzsimmons, known affectionately as "Kitty". She was an old irish spinster who lived here in Vermont. Knowing "Kitty" wasn't a proper name the name Catherine was decided yet I was called Kitty from day one. It's a sweet name, and quite fitting, no not because I sport whiskers and have a tail. Rather it's the demeanor of a cat that I have. I have the spirit of a cat! How could Dad have known?

If life were to be the way I'd like it, I'd wake up in the morning with a good stretch, wash my face, have a little breakfast, wander and find the perfect sunspot to have an early morning nap. Get up an hour or so later, inspect my bowl for anything new and interesting. Wander off upstairs and find the next sunspot and laaaaayyy out and stretch, do a bit of preening and then drift blissfully back off to sleep. Some time later I'd sit up, bathe, wander downstairs for a snack, go outside wander the porch, find a comfy chair, curl up and feign sleep while really listen to the birds and peek out through small slits and make sure the mailman doesn't disturb me. I'd then make a leisurely stroll through the flowers and sidewalk, aimlessly wandering but not too far, dinner isn't that far off. Then I'd make my way back home, acting like I've had such a hard day and indulge in that dinner, a meat and gravy delight...

I then manage to hang about the kitchen in case there's any treats headed my way and to at least make the appearance that I'm interested in being part of the family. Then as evening approaches I would lay claim to ever dust bunny in the house. Once my family had gone off to bed I'd make sure no string was left untouched, I would dust the furniture with my nimble body, I'd chase imaginary mice, honing my skill as a fierce hunter, a tiger. Upon the crash of some object to the floor I'll scurry off, even spin out on a throw rug, so as to not be caught as the culprit. My night antics take on a whole new meaning in the moonlight. Draperies need my attention, I rake them and smooth them, leaving my scent behind so that no other creature dare enter my den.

As dawn approaches I start to wind down, feeling that my duties are now done, time to drift off into a heady doze.....until I hear my breakfast being served once more. Sss...t...re...t....c...hhhh, doze a bit more and then get ready for another exhausting day.

What's in your purse?

As the saying goes, you can tell a lot about a person by what they have in their purse/handbag. This thought crossed my mind today while rifeling through my pocketbook looking for the baby advil. Here's what's in my bag:

1. mouldy sock that the baby's bottle had leaked on ages ago and it sat and turned all green :P

2. wallet busting from too many receipts, too little money

3. cell phone that's off because I forgot about it and it ran out of power and powered down.

4. zip-lock bag with one dose of baby advil

5. old used decrepid tissue

6. long envelope full of coupons, most of which are probabaly expired...

7. another long envelope with two children's immunization records all ready for school

8. a key, to what it goes to, I haven't a clue

9. a broken earring from one of my girls

10. a trial size package of Nivea

11. lip balm, left open, caked with dirt :P

12. checkbook

13. tax bill I have to go deliver to the bank as they pay that through escrowed funds

14. a relief of abuse order that's outdated yet in its nice ziplock bag

15. a little girl's hairbrush

16. a dolly's hairbrush

17. immunization information sheets

18. permission slip for boy scouts

19. spare diaper

20. cloth diaper/wipe clothe extraordinaire

The conclusion that can be drawn from this is, yep my life is clutter-full and yes, everyone and his cousin drops things into this catch-all and no matter how much I clean it, it'll return to that state of confusion in record-time. You can also deduct that it's organized chaos, yes it's a mess but I know where everything is. Lastly, it stands as a witness that I will get to everything, in its own time.

caio

If only hitting a bouncy ball with the ceiling fan were an Olympic Sport...

My kids would be Gold Medal winners. If there were a trophy for the most things you can stuff down inside the recesses of the sofa, it would be on my mantle, we'd be the defending champs! If I were given a penny for every time I've had to snake the toilet...I'd have a nice retirement account. If awards were handed out for every time I have to make a made dash to thrown on my bra before answering the door, I'd have many.

But.... none of these precious medals adorn my mantle, heck I don't have a mantle and if I did the kids would be swinging off of it and it would've broken off the wall, many a curtain rod stand testiment of that.

What I am awarded with, though, are six very active children, all very happy, healthy and full of it!! Every day they are renewed with energy, not a single one of them has any major affliction. My youngest is seen as handicapped, he has Down Syndrome, but he's not. He is my ambassador of good will, he's my gold medal of honor, he's my hero. Each child, in their own way, delivers something to the experience of motherhood that I cherish, I may not like that my daughter's artistic talents are displayed all over the newly sheetrocked wall...but then, one day that'll be painted over and her work will be but a distant memory. I may not enjoy my two pre-teens attitudes and search for independance BUT this means I'm doing an pretty ok job, they need to think on their own, they need to exert themselves...I just have to keep taking Zoloft....

In the Olympics of Mothorhood I have been given so many rewards and though many of them are evident only in my quickly greying hair they are priceless and cherished way beyond any earthly medal. I am a Mom.